This Face....
by Fox Child
Summary: When the Youko looks into a mirror, how does he view his human body?


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_This Face...._

FoxNote: This is one-shot fic, from the viewpoint of Kurama. Hopefully, it's followable and not too confusing (I'm hoping here...). It's seen from his mind, through his eyes, which might explain the wording a little better. There's no hinting at any pairing, as far as I intended and can tell, so it's safe for all. Spoilers.... *scanning* ...no, unless you've been under my couch and didn't know about Kurama/Shuuichi. If so, ask the dust-ideas, they can fill you in on things. 

Disclaimer-that-must-be-present-just-in-case-the-owners-truly-mind-and/or-read-our-little-wanna-be-stories: We don't own Yu Yu Hakusho, my muse and I. (I can just imagine the messy death from over-excitement if we did...) Fortunately, though, it is owned by the marvolously brilliant Togashi Yoshihiro, Shueisha Fuji TV., Studio Pierrot, Jump Comics, and any other legal companies who claim it. Which isn't me. (Though I do claim to own a possessed computer, two of Duo Maxwell's hairs, 3 of Kurama's, 7 of Aya Fujimiya's, and two very odd cats. Unless you want them, sueing would be bad...) 

  
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_This face..._

A finger traced along the vertical lake of glass, following red hair, one green eye, the colors of blood, of the trees he had once run under. Beautiful. They all said that, and he knew there was more than a hint of truth in it. He'd always been proud of his looks.

_These colors..._

Every time he looked in that mirror... Where had he gone? His old face. 'So strange, to see a stranger staring back at you through your own eyes...' More feminine now, he supposed, examining himself again, too many times to count. A little rounder. A little more color in the cheeks, a little less mysterious. He regretted that, but the eyes still held some of that old secret, a promise of something... more.

_A flash of a smile._

That wasn't him. Not that sweet expression, without malice, without anger and superiority. Where had that look gone, the gaze that could mean torturous death or immeasurable pleasure? Now, it was something that gained too much trust just in that brief second. "…He's so handsome…" Breathless words. He'd heard them before, over and over. "…Death comes before me now, as an angel of white light…" One time only, remembered always. That trust, though. It was dangerous. And so easy to use. 

_Take control…_

No. Not again. He'd left that life in a moment of sure death. And now… 

_Yes, now… Do you see what you've become?_

The feared. Now the beautiful and loved. Still deadly? Yes… But now… He'd lost his edge. That razor sharp tooth of an emotionless enemy that had made him… him. Where was that? Fingers trailed down the mirror. Streaks over that face that he didn't recognize. He was still himself, wasn't he? 

_Aren't I?_

'Yes. Still me. But him, too.' What would this human have become, had he not intruded upon its life? Strange… That soul he should have pushed out when he slipped in, unnoticed… Why was it still there? It hadn't given up. 

_That's me, now…_

Two as one. Not one without the other, stirred and meshed, and never to be separated again. 

_He is mine…_

Don't let him go now… Such an attachment to this young man! His body, but our soul. 'He has so much love that I never had before…' Shown so easily, given freely… And now, the man he once was was becoming the same… Would he survive again, were he to loose his soul and return? 

_No… I need him…_

Was that a love? Then what was it? If they were two, what would it have been like? Would they have met? He wanted to run his hands over this one's form, through his hair, down his arms and chest, feel every part of him and memorize what the other body felt like under his sensitive fingers. He had done that before, but only his own body. Warm skin and muscles, not the hard marble he had once been, but no less strong. Long strands of hair, the same feel of his own fur. Soft… But would it feel different if he felt that body, and it wasn't him? 

_Would I have killed him, had I met him, only for his beauty?_

He had done that before. Flash of a smile, glimpse of such sharp teeth… Blood. Tinge of that sweet smell on the air, and now his forever. He had been such a jealous creature. None could surpass him. He wouldn't have allowed it. But now, what of him? This young man. How long had it been since he had been young? Had he ever been? There was no childhood to remember the first time. It made the second one so hard… 

_Memories hurt like flaming swords sometimes…_

One hand swiping across that glass, more smears over the stranger's face. There was that sweet, strange smile again. His grace was still there. Perfect control. Even in this body. It was smaller than he was used to. Perhaps it would grow, if he wanted. But, no, it fit. A little snugly, but he was comfortable with the new shape. Long fingers that could perform so many quick little tasks, flying like little white birds. Graceful and strong legs, letting him fly like the wind. Arms that could wrap around someone in a gesture of comfort, or hold them tight and vulnerable. And the long hair… He loved to indulge in it… A cloak, a wing, feathers of silk falling like snow, like blood… His. This crimson flow fell differently, but it was long, it was luxurious. It was still his. 

_Always mine._

From now till forever, it seemed, they would never be separated, even after this mortal body's death. It was so fragile, this flesh, with skin that bruised, tore, bled thin streams of red, aches that gathered the cold to sore muscles and strained joints. Little things so easily taken for granted when they weren't present, weren't there to sting and prick at your concentration, daily life. How could you recognize the pain, if it weren't there, or remember the slow torture when the energy was endless? But the release from it was then so much more precious and treasured when there was a pain to escape. That breath of fresh, cool air to soothe the burning flames and claws was a beautiful thing only when you knew it was missing. So often, under star-filled demon skies, it had been ignored before. 

'And love?' the human side whispers. 'Friendship?' Can it be proven which of the two thought the mental sigh first? Many years ago, perhaps. 'Can it now be seen how another's soul, touch, can be that breeze to cool the sword's graze as easily as it can be the razor sharp edge? 

_Vulnerable, once again, seeing what was and what is._

But was it something to regret? A moment of pure thought, a search through dark halls of the mind, lighted pools of reflection as those long fingers lift a single flower from a vase, scarlet against ivory, memories against memories. Was the pain brought by the connection with others, a clasp of heart to heart forever, worth the heat once the ones known were lost for all time to everything but remembrance, taking those pieces of his own soul with it? 

_Everyone has scars..._

No, and yes. The rose brushes down smooth skin, silk on silk, a delicate cool touch. There was no regret. The worth was there, and full. A mother, a brother, true understanding found in allies, in men and women that he could consider something real. A friend. 

_In you as well, my human self..._

The lessons of hardness had been learned in another lifetime, and now he was to learn the lessons of gentleness, of kindness and caring. The opportunity was not to be forsaken to add to a soul of sharp light the touch that would smooth the edges into something final. And, like every lesson, there were prices behind the knowledge. He was no longer himself, but, in the same, was himself, and beyond. A truer form, perhaps? He had lost much, but gained so much more. The risk was always there, but now, the creature he had once been was willing and able to grasp the gamble fully, not letting go till there was nothing left and further. 

_There is a true future, now..._

A thorn pressed into the circle of a thumb, a fingertip, a soft prick of warning and reminder of the sting still behind the deadly beauty, hidden but remaining. Another price to pay, the shadows to grant others the ability to survive, accept, but no, there was no regret. For either of them. 

"Shuuichi!" 

Bright green eyes lifting from the tiny bead of heated life's blood forming beneath the green sharpness to harmonize with red satin, and, once again, that new sweet smile at the soft human voice. Oil and water were changed forever, heated and mixed, becoming something new, something different. No longer the kitsune. No longer the human child. Two were one, never separate from the other. Neither, but both. A duet that could not be parted, and would never choose to be. It was a beautiful thing. 

"Hai, Okaasan, I'll be there in a moment!" 

The smudged mirror watched on as the young man walked away, and if it showed a flash of silver hair intertwined with the red, there was none to see but the simple, perfect rose left on the table. 

   [1]: http://www.gurl.com/
   [2]: http://ad.doubleclick.net/jump/gurl.dart/gurlpages;sz=468x60;%20pos=top;tile=1;ord=123456#?
   [3]: http://www.gurlpages.com/



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